Freedom

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination 

To see why they won’t set me free

Do they not love me?

Or trust me?

Or believe in me?

They can’t call it protection because there is no real danger 

They can’t call it love because there’s no one around to hate

So what can they call it?

Control?

Safety?

Captivity?

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination 

Am I only good for cleaning?

And watching?

And scoring?

Or am I appreciated for just a little bit more?

Why is it that the ones who seem to need freedom the most always end up lacking it?

Why is it that the ones who need to be controlled the most don’t have it and the ones who don’t need it get the third degree?

Sometimes I just want to scream, scream, scream

To see if anyone really hears me, my cries, my need to be free

Or just to see if it’s all just a figure of my imagination 

My heart, mind, body and soul long for it 

My blood and emotions fiend for it

All it is 

All I need 

All I want 

Is a little, just a little

FREEDOM

Select the sub categories located under “Unpoetic Teenage Thoughts” after reading it, to follow the journey with me back into parts of my teenage mind.